The week leading up to Boston 2019 looked very similar to the week before Boston 2018. It found me obsessively checking the weather forecast, continuously running through outfit options in my mind, ordering rain gear online, making a list of everything I would need to stay warm on race day, and thinking of little else. I was trying to live a normal life that week, but I failed. Everyone, from actual meteorologists to those in my Facebook Boston Buddy group, kept saying that New England weather changes in an instant. But, they said that last year too and the forecasted cold rain came to fruition. On top of that, I had to worry about the snowstorm that was set to hit the Twin Cities in the middle of the week and pray that our flight would not be impacted. I kept telling myself reassuring things. Pack everything, prepare for all weather conditions, and then decide on Sunday what you’ll wear when the forecast will be most accurate. Don’t worry about a Wednesday snowstorm when your flight isn’t until Saturday. Just pray that everything will be fine; these are things completely and absolutely out of your control. You’re tough and you know you can run in rainy conditions, and cold is nothing new. As late as Friday, 3 days before the race, the Boston Athletic Association was still warning of conditions similar to last year and even went as far as changing the start time for Wave 4 (the final wave) so they wouldn’t have to stand around in the conditions. Friday was also the day I started feeling sick. The right side of my face and my ear felt funny, and my nose was running way more than it normally does. So early that evening, I finished packing, ate dinner, and went to bed.
On Saturday morning, I was still not feeling the greatest so the challenge was to make sure no one on the flight would sense anything. A plane full of runners would not take kindly to an infectious person in their midst. No one invests 4 months of their lives training for a marathon only to get breathed on by someone who inconveniently gets sick three days out. Our flight left on time (yay!) and I managed to make the 2 hour flight without blowing my nose or coughing. I was crossing items off the “Things to Stress About List” left and right. When we stepped outside of the airport in Boston, the warm air was overwhelming. Overdressed and dehydrated, I felt as though the air was sucked right out of me. I told myself I didn’t have to run that day nor the next day. Just take things one moment at a time.
We passed the time on Saturday and Sunday with a variety of activities, from picking up my packet at the EXPO to shopping to attending Palm Sunday service. We had dinner in The North End at Nico’s Italian Restaurant on Sunday night. After I was sufficiently loaded on carbs, we headed back to the hotel.
By now, it was acceptable to check the forecast. I had been, of course, watching it all along and noticing that the rain chances were decreasing and the temperatures were increasing. But now it was time to decide what I was wearing, what I was tossing, and what I could live without. I settled on my gear, set two alarms, checked and then re-checked them, and finally drifted off to sleep.
Like last year, when race morning arrived, I awoke with a fierce determination. After training through a tough winter, getting (as it turns out just slightly) sick days before, and worrying about the weather, it was time to stop whining and start running. I got up, got dressed, put on some ridiculous looking gear to stay dry before the race, and Ubered to the buses (I would have walked the mile had it not been raining, promise). By now, the rain was predicted before and after when I’d be running. Some forecasts were showing sunshine and 60s for the timeframe I’d be on the course, some showed overcast and 60s. I hoped for the latter.
I walked across the Boston Commons in the rain and was slightly wet by the time I boarded the bus. I found an open seat next to a kind looking male runner, we exchanged pleasantries, and I almost sighed with relief when he took out a book to read. For the next hour, I simply wanted to sit and relax (and eavesdrop on the conversation going on behind me between two gentlemen, one from Wisconsin and one from Toronto). 🙂
Arriving at Athlete’s Village in Hopkinton, I was prepared for chaos. The good thing about doing the same race multiple times if you know what to expect. It’s also the bad thing. The rain had stopped by now, but the grounds were still pretty soggy. Not as bad as last year for sure, but still not desirable to walk through. Thankfully, I had on an old pair of running shoes and my new ones to change into before the start of my wave. My time in the village went pretty well and a few minutes before they called Wave 3, I changed my shoes and tossed my garbage. Moments later, it was show time.
Once they call your Wave in Boston, there’s still about ½ mile to walk before you arrive at the official starting line corrals. I showed my bib multiple times to prove I was where I was supposed to be. I stopped to use the porta potties again. I started shedding layers, which were clearly not going to be needed at all during the race. It’s the final leg of the journey to arrive at the starting line. And then, I arrived. There was energy all around me, and I was feeling confident. It wasn’t raining. It wasn’t freezing. I didn’t seem to be sick. Things were falling into place. And then our Wave started! I was so proud to be running my 3rd Boston Marathon. So very proud and honored.
I spent the first few miles reminding myself to start out slowly. It’s downhill at the start and race veterans know to save something for the hills that come near the end of the race. In addition, though I didn’t feel sick, my body was perhaps weakened- another good reason to be conservative. Plus, I didn’t go into the race with a particular finish time in mind. Under 4 hours is always respectable to me, but just finishing was the top priority. Strangely, I wasn’t trying to get another qualifying time for next year. Multiple people had told me to try and take everything in and enjoy being part of the event. I was sincerely making every attempt to do that for a while- observing the landscape of the rural towns along the route, appreciating the fans who came out to cheer us on, and feeling grateful for the opportunity to participate in such a prestigious marathon. Then, the sun came out. I was wearing short sleeves and shorts, and thankfully I had applied sunblock to my face and neck. Around the same time, I felt as though I needed to use the toilet again. Even though I wasn’t necessarily focused on a certain finish time, I really didn’t want to have to stop along the way. So, I decided to skip the next water station and figured that would help. Well, it did help in that one area but I soon realized the sun and warm temperatures were going to be an issue.
This is where I stopped savoring the moment and shifted into survival mode. Perhaps 60 degrees and sun would not have posed a problem in August, after a few months of summer training. But I hadn’t run in “feels like” 60 degrees and sunshine since September. The warm temperatures we’ve had in Minneapolis this spring were always accompanied by 30 mph winds. I gave myself a pep talk, or should I say I gave myself one continuous pep talk the rest of the way- I had not come this far and overcome so many obstacles to be beat by the weather. If I had to slow down, so be it. If I had to walk some, fine. Not finishing was not an option.
As the miles wore on, I tried to focus on looking up ahead instead of down at my watch. At the aid stations, I would often take two cups of water. I’d drink one and pour the other one down my back. It really made a difference, at least for a short time. Eventually, I started taking two cups of Gatorade and I would walk to make sure I took in enough of the liquid instead of spilling it all over myself. No, I didn’t pour the Gatorade down my back; that would have been a terribly sticky mistake. At some point along the course, a firefighter had opened one of the fire hydrants which I happily ran through. Further along, a spectator had a hose and was spraying people. These little things helped so much.
At the beginning of the race, I was getting passed almost non-stop. You are placed in your starting wave/corral along with everyone else who ran the same time to qualify. I noted that I was starting out at somewhat of a slower pace and thus I was perhaps in the way. That all changed when we got to the hills. There’s a series of infamous hills through the town of Newton from miles 17.5 to 21, with the biggest of them all called Heartbreak Hill. As we approached the first of the hills, I saw some people walking. It was hot and thus understandable that people would walk. Though I was not certainly not setting any pace records, I did manage to keep running. As the hills progressed, the number of people walking increased. I was constantly getting boxed in or blocked out, and my frustrations were growing. I mean I do get it, everyone is simply trying to survive and keep moving forward. I felt badly for getting upset, but my level of patience decreases drastically in the 2nd half of the marathon. Mentally, I sympathized. Emotionally, not so much.
I really don’t recall too many more details about the race, until we closed in on the final miles. At certain markers, I’d equate the remaining distances to familiar training routes from back home as a way to make them seem achievable. I remember seeing someone with a Boston Buddies sign around mile 24 (this is the Facebook group of which I’m a member). Not long after, I could see the Citgo sign up ahead, which signifies mile 25. With it in sight, I started feeling more confident that I would finish. I lived for that last mile. All the work, all the obstacles, it was time to finally feel celebratory and savor the moment. I skipped the last aid station, and just kept focusing on that glorious finish line. We went under an overpass with the words “Boston Strong” and it wasn’t long after that I saw the sign for Hereford. Right turn on Hereford, with the thunderous crowds lining the street and adrenaline pumping through my veins at full force. And what comes next is the thing you imagine during the grueling training runs and the challenging miles of the marathon course. It is what runners dream of, whether it’s their 1st or 3rd or 10th Boston. It is what keeps you pushing forward. It’s why you never quit. That left turn onto Boylston Street. It’s then and only then that you can see the blue and yellow finish line up ahead. It’s where the crowds grow even louder and more jubilant. It’s where you witness scenes of heroism, athleticism, selflessness, sportsmanship, and grit. All three times I’ve made that turn, it has taken my breath away. Each time, I gulp back a sob and fear I’m going to pass out. As in years past, I gathered my composure and then looked at the crowds. I neared the location of where I thought I’d find my family, and sure enough, I spotted Dan, Marianne, and Jim and gave them a quick wave. Then, I had one last goal in that moment. I needed to finish in under 4 hours. I looked at my watch and figured I could do it. In fact, I made it with 35 seconds to spare.
Right after I finished, it began to rain. Just as was predicted. I kept thinking how good that would have felt hours earlier. I made my way through the finish area, received my medal, grabbed some water, and headed to PF Changs to meet up with the Hedins.
I cannot express too often how extremely blessed I am. Day-after-day, I get to use the gifts and abilities that God gave me. I get to lace up my shoes and work towards my goals. Running brings me so much joy and such a sense of accomplishment. Three times now, I’ve qualified for and completed the Boston Marathon. Each training cycle and each race was massively challenging but that only made the reward that much more satisfying. I’m so incredibly thankful to have had these opportunities, and I pray there are many more in my future. In addition, I’m so appreciative all the kind words and support I receive from my family and friends. Thank you for coming along on these adventures with me, for caring, and for making me feel so special.
#bostonstrong
